


Stiles Didn't Sign On for This

by KatD



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Objectification, Oral Sex, Robot Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatD/pseuds/KatD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles didn't plan on getting a "social simulation" robot. But who ever really expects a Der3k 2.6 on their doorstep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stiles Didn't Sign On for This

**Author's Note:**

> See end notes for warning.

Stiles swore up and down that he would never again laugh at anyone who “accidentally” obtained a Karel Corp. Robot through a delivery mistake, manufacture error, or drunken online shopping. Not that he was more likely to believe there was anything “accidental” about the acquisition. He just suddenly had a lot more sympathy.

This shit is embarrassing.

“You know, I would feel less like throwing myself out the window to end this awkwardness if you would just say something.”

Stiles took in the figure standing perfectly still in the exact spot in his apartment entryway it had been left by a decidedly unimpressed delivery woman. She had handed over the shipping receipt and waited for his imprint impatiently as Stiles had gaped at the paperwork in horror. This was not what he had signed up for, or well, apparently he had, but that was beside the point. He’d wanted to test new life assist software systems or maybe the odd cleaning bot, not get saddled with a mortifyingly obvious “social simulation” robot. Stiles paced up and down without any offer of communication so apparently direct address was the only way this silent standoff would be broken. 

“Say something!”

“I am a Der3k 2.6 with experimental wetware algorithm programming. You, Stiles Stilinski have been selected at random from a wide pool of applicants as an official tester of the Der3k 2.6 Beta system.”

There was a pause of nearly 2 seconds between Stiles’ outburst and the answering reply. He wondered at the slow turnover in the language analysis and speech processors and if with a little tweaking maybe a little logic tree pruning he could get a response time that more accurately imitated human interactions. The urge to tinker was suddenly overwhelming. It made his hands twitch.

Stiles sighed and frowned. Nobody bought Der3ks for their conversational skills. He looked pointedly at the musculature barely hidden beneath the loose, soft drapes of the cotton tunic and pants that was the Karel default. He felt a powerful surge of arousal, his dick reminded him that he hadn’t bothered with underwear before answering the door and a quick unzip would be all he needed. Stiles squashed that thought. It’s not like you could return used sex toys, even bio-synth robotic ones with AI simulation interfaces. Pride demanded the attempt. He looked down at the paperwork.

“Who the hell in the PR department decided that spelling Derek with a 3 was a good idea?”

“You have insufficient clearance to permit the disclosure of Karel Corp. personal records,” the Der3k model replied.

“That was sort of a rhetorical question, dude. I was just saying that it seems like a really stupid idea. It’s not like exchanging letters with numbers breaking new ground. I mean geez welcome to the 22nd century! Let’s just say that your name is Derek, without the 3, and my brain won’t weep for humanity every time I need to call up command protocols.”

“As you wish, sir. The designation of this Der3k 2.6 has been updated to Derek.”

“Sir?”

“Sir is the default address for male-gendered humans,” the robot, Derek, offered by way of explanation.

“Why don’t you just call me Stiles.”

“As you wish, Stiles. Your default address has been updated. Please let me know of any situational names you desire.”

“Situational names? Like, what, if I want you to call me daddy while I spank your ass red?

“That would be an example of a situational name modification. Would you like to—”

“No! No, that’s fine! Don’t call me daddy while I spank you, or, um, at any other time.”

“As you wish, Stiles.”

“Great. Now how do I get rid of you?”

The pause seemed longer than necessary, until it started to get uncomfortable. Stiles wondered if he’s maybe crashed the system or the question needed additional parameters or—

“The nearest metal foundry is 426 miles from our present location. There is a cove with sufficient ocean acce—“

“Oh my god! I’m not looking to dump you in the ocean like a freakin’ corpse! I wanna know how I can return you so that some other dumb schmuck can get the full embarrassment of you showing up on their friggin’ door in the middle of the day.”

Derek was unsettlingly but serenely still. It seemed weird to Stiles. I mean this was a social simulation bot, known for lifelike responses and personalities. He wasn’t sure how this experimental wetware was working out because Derek was way deep in the uncanny valley.

“Social simulation robots are equipped with a variety of sexual functions and are considered non-returnable from point of sale.”

“But I didn’t buy you.”

“At your imprint upon delivery you assumed legal ownership of this unit.”

Stiles scrubbed his hands across his face and up to his hands in frustration.

“Can I just kick you out of my apartment then? I mean if I own this unit, you, whatever, then you can’t make me keep you.”

There was an almost imperceptible twitch in Derek’s jaw. An electrical surge perhaps, Stiles thought.

“A very small number of Der3k 2.6 units were sent for in-home beta testing that it is imperative that all data be collected about daily functionality.”

“Could it be a girl? Woman, whatever. Could a woman be an in-home beta tester because Erica down the hall is sweet and super shy. She could use a little more socializing and companionship. Besides when a man gets a bot and he’s a pervert into shit too kinky for human beings, when woman gets a bot she broadening her sexual horizons. It’s a clear double standard and you’d think that the last 200 odd years since the sexual revolution would have—”

“I—”

Stiles eyes went wide at Derek’s interruption and something that looked a lot like panic was gleaming in the bot’s unnaturally blue eyes. Maybe there was an acclimation period where the AI processed human responses before it could create convincing emotions. Stiles made a mental note to Google it later. But Derek clamped down on his expression immediately and returned to a state of peculiar blankness.

“I would like to say that I do not wish to be given to your neighbor, Erica.”

“Okay,” Stiles replied, “relax. Dude, you are so bizarre.”

Stiles tilted his head to one side, then the other, all the while looking at Derek like he wasn’t sure which end was up.

“So I can’t return you, can’t give you away, can’t throw you out because there’d be no beta-testing data. So what are my options?”

“Allowing this unit to continue residency here, using me as you would normally or the destruction of this unit.”

“You’re not gonna get much data if I melt you down in a metal foundry.”

“The destruction of this unit would be considered beta-testing data. Conclusive data.”

Stiles snorted and shook his head. “‘Cause that’s not overdramatic in the least. Your corporation is full of sadistic bastards, you know that?”

Derek said nothing in response. Stiles sighed and pulled his shirt over his head and undid his fly. His jeans remained hanging off his hips as he walked towards the bedroom.

“Come on then,” he called back to the robot. “We’ve got a lot of testing ahead of us.”

“Stiles?” the robot asked warily.

“I don’t know about other people, but when I get a new toy in the mail it’s sorta like insta-boner until I can get down with my bad self. So since everyone figures I’m fucking a robot anyway, I may as well actually be getting orgasms out of the deal. Come on. Bedroom’s this way.”

Derek followed.

When Stiles turned and sat down on the edge of his bed to face Derek he was suddenly overwhelmed with the sort of embarrassment he’d not felt since he was 12 and his best friend Scott caught him trying to use a homemade dermal stimulator to grow chest hair. His father had ended up taking him to a professional because he ended up looking like he’d stapled an animal pelt to his sternum, never a good look for a preteen.

Derek was just too good looking and his face was too still. It was unnatural. Arousing, but unnatural and Stiles slowly felt his embarrassment fade. He just needed to remind himself that no one was here to see him. Not really.

“Get your fine robo-ass over here. I wanna get a better look.” Stiles didn’t feel the confidence of his words, not really, but he wanted to try them out. He felt a little like he was role-playing. Skeezy john and robot prostitute, Stiles thought he’d maybe seen a porno like this once.

Derek walked forward, his movements so effortlessly powerful and graceful that he looked like art on the move. Stiles stroked two fingers down Derek’s throat and chest, pulling at the v-neck of the white cotton shirt stretched over his frame. Stiles marveled at the temperature and smooth, hairless texture of the bio-synth skin. He realized that he could spend hours just zoning in on every little bit of Derek because everything about him was a conscious design choice. Stiles was curious if Derek was primarily built by committee or by focus group or by the brilliant, genius, possibly sadistic mind of one individual. Stiles looked into Derek’s face and wondered if it was just a trick of the light or where Derek’s eye even more intensely blue than they had been before?

“Let’s get your clothes off.” Stiles started the pull up the hem of Derek’s shirt and found soft, dexterous hands quick to help. The pants dropped to the floor with just the slightest encouragement. Stiles took in the body before him and found himself oddly detached. Objectively Derek’s body was perfect, but apparently perfection expected is ultimately a bit disappointing even when delivered as promised.

Stiles’ penis, however, was certainly not unmoved and he parted the fly of his jeans to let it enjoy a bit more room.

“I’d like very much for you suck my cock, Derek.’

“As you wish, Stiles,” Derek said and dropped smoothly to his knees. “Would you like to request anything specific?”

“Just go for it,” Stiles mumbled, already shivering at the feel of the air moving with words against his skin.

Part of Stiles had assumed that telling a robot to suck him would result in a very literal interpretation of that order. A mouth-cock-suck algorithmic sequence. Stiles was very glad to be wrong as Derek tilted his head to the side and placed slow, pulling kisses from base to tip.

Derek’s eyes caught Stiles looking down at him and for a moment Stiles felt deeply naked and confused, but mostly horny. The soft openness of Derek’s mouth looked so appealing against the flushed head of Stiles’ cock where is rested against the gently curved lower lip. Derek’s tongue traced firm, tight circles against the tip and a firm massaging grip on the shaft. Stiles felt his thighs tremble.

“Oh my god! Do that again!”

Derek complied. Repeatedly. Over and over in a perfect building rhythm until Stiles felt as though he was going come or his heart was going to burst. The small part of his brain that still had any function realized he needed to give some direction.

“Derek, please!” he cried out, not bothering to remember he had neighbors. “Suck me!”

Derek took just the head between his lips and sucked achingly gentle. Part of Stiles was expecting the heat, melting and good, but the wetness was shocking. It made the inside of Derek’s mouth slick around him. He fell back onto the bed, unable to hold himself up any longer.

“Holy shit, Derek! Just make me come!”

Derek took Stiles cock straight down his tight throat, humming and swallowing and sucking. And Stiles had never thought about how fantastic it would be to get head from something that didn’t need to breath and could massage his dick with the muscles of his throat. It felt like only moments before Stiles’ started to tense and come. Stiles hips jerked as he kept surging in pulses. He twitched and moaned as the suction continued unabated even as he grew too sensitive to stand it, his breath coming in unattractive squeaks and jutters.

“Stop! Oh god, please stop!” he cried out.

Derek pulled back, lips pursing to suck any remaining bits of come from Stiles.

Stiles pulled himself bonelessly up onto the center of his bed. He lifted his hips and slid his jeans down. He tried to kick them away from where they tangled in his legs, but his muscles failed to cooperate.

“Hey Derek?”

“Yes, Stiles.”

“Could you help me with my pants?”

“Of course, Stiles,” Derek said as he pulled them off and dropped them to the floor. Stiles patted the mattress next to him.

“You can lay down with me if you’d like.”

Derek stood over the bed, his face frozen. Stiles sighed.

“Come here, Derek. I want to cuddle while I contemplate round two.”

Derek’s grace seemed to disappear as he climbed into bed and lay down on his side, but Stiles paid that little mind as he wrapped his arms around the solid weight of Derek’s body. He sighed into Derek’s neck and smelled his skin. It was scented, which seemed weird for a moment until Stiles thought about how strange it would be to for Derek to smell of absolutely nothing. He slid his hand down the warm smooth skin of Derek’s back until his fingers reached the very top of that deliciously curved ass.

“Whoever did the 3D modeling that calculated your ass deserves a medal. And a cash prize.” His fingers kept moving absently, playing. “God, I can’t wait to fuck you.” He pressed his flaccid cock against Derek’s thigh. He jolted at the shivery feeling of his overly sensitive flesh. “Take too long though. Need you to fuck me instead.”

“If that’s what you want, Stiles.”

Stiles hummed and rolled over onto his stomach. “There’s some oil in the bedside table. A backrub would be pretty fricken’ fantastic right about now.”

Derek apparently had magical fingers or some sort of masseuse sub-directive because Stiles had never been more thoroughly rid of muscle tension in his entire life. Between a bone melting orgasm and lovely strong fingers Stiles was insanely relaxed. Save for the returning tension low in his stomach. Strong hands kneaded at his ass until that tension became an ache.

“Put your fingers inside of me,” he asked as he squirmed his hips back. His breath caught when he brushed against Derek’s erection.

Derek pressed in two slick fingers. They stretched and the oil squelched around his opened hole and his cheeks burned with embarrassment. Stiles bit his lip as Derek’s fingers worked in even deeper.

“Fuck me, Derek,” Stiles muttered. “I can take it.”

Derek pulled his fingers free and Stiles turned over and grabbed a pillow to prop up his hips. He wrapped his legs around Derek and pulled the robot close until they were pressed together. He licked Derek’s smooth, perfectly sculpted jaw and pressed together cheek to cheek. Stiles signed.

“Fuck me until I come.”

Derek made a noise, strange, almost like an exhale as he pressed himself into Stiles. That might have given Stiles pause if he could spare any attention at all. Derek moved with such a strong and even rhythm that Stiles was happy to lay back and give into the illusion that he was being used.

He remembered quickly that Derek could maintain an even steady pace without tire all day if asked and as much fun as that sounded, that would have to wait. 

“Faster,” Stiles ordered, and started to jerk himself off with quick strokes. He came quickly and hummed as he felt his ass clench around the cock inside of him. He sighed as the pulses weakened and Derek shuddered to a stop inside of him. He ran his cum sticky fingers through Derek’s hair.

“I know that you can simulate an orgasm. I wanna watch.”

Derek thrust a few more times and suddenly his face relaxed, his eyes blew wide open and his mouth parted loosely with a deep groan. Then it was suddenly like is face reversed and his eyes shut tight and his mouth tensed with a whine. His hips gave one last shaky jerk as he fell forward onto Stiles chest with a sigh.

Stiles traced circles in Derek’s back with his fingers. Then he laughed.

“Oh my god, Derek! Your face when you come. It’s like you’re defragging your hard drive or whatever passes as a religious experience for a computer.”

Derek huffed and snorted and on anyone else it would be dismissed as random post-coital laughing at stupid crap. Stiles froze.

Derek felt the tension and pulled himself off Stiles and met his gaze. Stiles realized that something was wrong. Derek looked different. His eyes looked—different. His pupils were twitching, taking in micro-expression that flit across Stiles’ face. 

Stiles expressions morphed from confusion to curiosity and realization to horror. 

Derek’s robotic face echoed that horror when Stiles finally spoke.

“Holy fuckballs, you’re sentient.”

**Author's Note:**

> In this story Derek is a robot designed for sexual purposes, who is hiding the fact that he's sentient. This story deals with issues of consent for artificial intelligences. Stiles is also seduced under false pretenses.


End file.
